


The Game’s Afoot

by badly_knitted



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: fandomweekly, Gen, Halloween Costumes, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8043547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/pseuds/badly_knitted
Summary: Jack and Ianto are all dressed up for an important night out.





	The Game’s Afoot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompt #023 - In For A Penny at fandomweekly.

“I can’t believe you’re actually goin’ hob-nobbin’ with the coppers!” Owen groused. Much to everyone’s surprise, Ianto and Jack had been invited to Cardiff Heddlu’s annual Halloween costume party.

“Kathy thinks it’s about time Torchwood and the Cardiff constabulary were on better terms,” Ianto replied, putting the final touches on his costume, “and I can’t say I disagree. It might make our jobs a bit easier if there was less antagonism. How do I look?”

“Like a twat.”

“You’re just grumpy because you weren’t invited,” Jack teased.

“You both look like twats. Why’re you dressed up like that anyway?”

“It’s a costume party!” Jack was practically bouncing like an excited kid at Christmas.

“I know that, but you usually go for something more… flashy.” Owen’s face flushed pink.

“You mean ‘more revealing’, don’t you?” Ianto was trying to keep a straight face. “Disappointed that he’s not wearing tights this time?”

Owen shuddered. “God, no! That’s a sight I never want to see again!”

“I’ll believe you; thousands wouldn’t.” Ianto winked.

“Up yours, teaboy.”

“For your information, Owen, it’s a themed costume party.” Jack took the pipe from his mouth, gesturing with it as he paced, getting into character. “Guests are expected to dress as famous detectives and surely there’s none more famous.” He was aiming for an upper class British accent, and not doing too badly at it.

“He desperately wanted to be Sherlock Holmes, so I figured I might as well complete the set and be Doctor Watson. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. What would Holmes be without his trusted friend and chronicler? Thanks for the loan of the medical bag, by the way; it’s the perfect finishing touch to my costume.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Owen looked Jack up and down. “If you’re supposed to Holmes, where’s the funny hat?”

“Holmes didn’t wear a deerstalker in the books. I wanted to look more authentic.”

“Oh, didn’t know that, I’ve never read the books, only seen the old films. Back when I was a kid,” Owen added hastily.

Jack took the pipe from his mouth and looked at it. “I don’t have a briar pipe though, and I didn’t have time to go looking for one, so I’m stuck with my old meerschaum. It’s a good thing I knew where it was.”

“Most people probably won’t know the difference,” Ianto consoled him. “They’re all more familiar with the modern Sherlock these days.”

“I suppose, but it’s the principle of the thing.” Jack set his pipe down on his desk and patted his pockets. “Damn, what did I do with the invite? Ianto, have you got it?”

“No, you insisted on keeping it yourself. Don’t tell me you’ve lost it.”

“It’s probably in my bunker. I’ll be back in a minute.” Jack headed for the manhole down to his quarters, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t go without me.”

“That’s something I bet the real Sherlock Holmes never said,” Owen grinned.

“Holmes was a character created by Arthur Conan Doyle, Owen, not a real person.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“Of course it is.”

There were scuffling sounds and a lot of muttering from below, then Jack’s voice calling, “Got it!” He emerged from his bunker brandishing the fancy invite they’d been sent. “It was on my nightstand.”

“Thank God for that, otherwise we might’ve been here all night.” Ianto checked his watch. “Come on, grab your coat. If we don’t hurry we’ll be late. Wouldn’t do for us to be the last to arrive, some of the other guests might think we were grandstanding. I’ll go start the car. Night, Owen.” Picking up the borrowed medical bag, Ianto left the office.

Jack grabbed up the coat that went with his costume, slipping it on. “Keys to the SUV are on the hook behind my desk if you need them; we’re taking Ianto’s car,” he told Owen. “Don’t call us unless the world is ending.” With those words, he scurried after Ianto in a most un-Holmes like way.

Owen shook his head. “They’re both nutters,” he muttered to himself. Then he noticed something on Jack’s desk. “Fuck.” Picking it up, he hurried after his boss. “Oi! Jack! You forgot your mushroom pipe thing!”

Jack reappeared from the garage. “Oops!” Whipping the pipe out of Owen’s hand, he stuck it in his mouth. “Thanks, Owen. And it’s a meerschaum pipe, not a mushroom.”

“Like I care. Get out of ‘ere, go to yer fancy party and let me ‘ave some peace and quiet.”

“Indeed! Goodnight, my fine fellow!” Jack spun on his heel and strode across the garage.

Owen stood watching from the door to Torchwood’s underground garage as Jack jumped into Ianto’s Audi. The car pulled away, exiting through a hidden door, which closed automatically behind it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he meandered back into the main Hub. Everything was quiet, and he had the whole evening to himself, but as he slumped into the chair at his workstation, he half wished he’d been invited to the party too.

The End


End file.
